


MORNING!

by Feather (lalaietha)



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, Multi, Polyamory, V-relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 04:36:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalaietha/pseuds/Feather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A totally small and frivolous ficlet prompted by noting to StarAnise that I am coming to totally ship Sherlock Holmes\Marcus Bell/Joan Watson in a V.</p>
            </blockquote>





	MORNING!

Marcus has a very reliable internal clock. He's really not sure why - it's not like it's something anyone else in his family's ever had, or got trained into him, or anything else. He just always knows more or less what time it is and it's about five o'clock when Sherlock throws Joan's bedroom door open, crowing, "WATSON! MARCUS! Awake! We have twenty minutes to get down to the antique shop before a valuable piece of evidence may be lost forever!" 

Marcus sits up, rubbing his face and kind of grateful he never developed any serious trauma-related reflexes, because technically his gun is in arms' reach and if he had, Sherlock would be sorry. Joan doesn't sit up. Joan doesn't actually move, other than to turn her face a little more resolutely into the pillow. It's pretty obvious Sherlock Holmes the Obnoxious Fucking Alarm Clock is nothing new.

Sherlock's picking - Marcus stares at him and no, no, he is seriously picking clothes out of her closet, and throwing them - okay, _laying them neatly_ \- on the bed. And now he's picking up Marcus' clothes and putting them on the bed. If Marcus didn't know the man as well as he did, Marcus would _swear_ Sherlock had to be high. Very, very high. 

"Come along Watson!" Sherlock says, and even picks her out a pair of boots and puts them beside the bed pretty much exactly like a cat giving its human a mouse. "One of your dreadful 'smoothies'," and he says it like it's some kind of weird unknown piece of jargon, "is downstairs in a travel mug, along with a great deal of coffee for Marcus," he adds, with an almost gallant gesture at Marcus. Yeah. Gallant is the right word. "I shall await you in the kitchen." 

And then he's out of the room, with Marcus blinking after him, eyebrows as high as they go. 

Without opening her eyes or moving, Joan says, "Did he pick clothes for me?" 

"Uh," says Marcus, sliding out from under the covers. "Yeah. Including your underwear." 

"Damn," she says with a sigh, stretching and sitting up and reaching for the bra lying on top of the shirt Sherlock chose. "That usually means the time-limit's actually real." 

"He does that a lot?" 

"If he brings me breakfast, he's just being impatient," she replies, grabbing the shirt and pulling it over her head. "Same if he just explains whatever he figured out while totally failing to get the sleep needed by any normal human being while I'm still half-awake. But if he's picking out my clothes it's usually pretty urgent." 

Marcus considers this, doing up his belt. "How have you not killed him yet?" 

Joan pulls on the jeans Sherlock picked and then stands up to pull them all the way up. "Well," she says, "the first few times he did it, his father was still paying me."

"You remember when I said you guys act more like a married couple than anyone I know who's actually sleeping together, including us?" Marcus asked, as Joan grabbed an elastic and started putting up her messed up hair. 

"Yeah," said Joan, yawning. "I know. And I'm totally taking some of your coffee." 

"As long as you share your smoothie."


End file.
